


Confess Unsaid

by kayliemalinza



Category: Pirates of the Caribbean (Movies), Pirates of the Caribbean: The Curse of the Black Pearl (2003)
Genre: Execution, Gen, Prison
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2006-07-22
Updated: 2006-07-22
Packaged: 2017-10-27 08:26:17
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 869
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/293732
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kayliemalinza/pseuds/kayliemalinza
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Commodore Norrington goes to see Jack Sparrow the night before he is to be hanged.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Confess Unsaid

**Author's Note:**

> Set at the end of CotBP.

It was almost eight o' clock before Norrington remembered the pirate, and another ten minutes before he decided that Sparrow was worth getting out of his chair for. Even then, his decision was based less on any sort of goodwill toward the pirate and more on the fact that Norrington, at this stage of his bureaucratic career, did not yet possess skills of obfuscation sufficient to explain undead pirates to the Admiralty. So Norrington locked the report in a drawer, put on his wig and hat, and left.

***

"Jack Sparrow."

"Aye?"

James Norrington stared through the bars at Sparrow and felt a twinge of guilt for putting off the task so long. The pirate was little more than a shadow in the corner of the cell, while Norrington had to squint against the gleam of sunset.

"Your confederates were hanged today," he said.

"Don't know as you can call them that, mate," was the soft reply. Norrington peered into the corner, unnerved at Sparrow's voice rising from the darkness without source.

"I feel the term is appropriate," he said, standing a bit straighter, "seeing as you will be sharing their fate on the morrow."

Sparrow was silent.

Norrington's hand twitched, wanting to block the sun from his eyes or pull the brim of his hat down or wipe the sweat from the back of his neck, but he was aware of Sparrow watching him from the corner, still unseen.

"Sparrow—"

" _Captain_ —"

" _Mister_ Sparrow, when engaging in conversation, it is considered polite to move oneself into sufficient light and position to be seen, rather than skulk in the dark like a rodent." Norrington smirked, quite pleased with the acerbic tone of his voice, and allowed himself to adjust the fit of his coat— a quick tug of the cuffs— under the guise of brushing dust from the sleeves. There was a scuffling from the corner, very like a rat, and Jack Sparrow came into the sunlight.

"Well then," he said, tugging a piece of straw from his hair. "What brings you to my humble cell this evening? I can't imagine such a fine commodore as yourself whiling away the sunset hour with the likes o' meself, especially when there's matrimonial plans to discuss." He tilted his head to the side, the tips of his teeth showing irreverently. "Or aren't there?"

Norrington hated the glint of gold in that grin— melted down from a stolen heirloom, no doubt— and felt his hand straying to the hilt of his sword. "I make it a habit," he said,"to see all condemned prisoners the night before their execution."

Sparrow, eyes flicking down to the sword, said only, "Do you, now."

"It is a courtesy," said Norrington. "Every man, even the most vile and lawless, deserves a last chance to confess himself."

The half-smile still quirked Sparrow's lips, but his fingers wriggled uncertainly; rings flashed in the last blood of the sun. "Most-times you need a priest for that, mate," he said. "But I suppose you consider youself close enough to God to make do."

Norrington gave his most enigmatic smile. "There are sins against God," he said, "but also sins against man."

Sparrow's eyes lit up. "And it's the last you want me to confess. Not the taking of a man's life, which God gave him, but the taking of a man's gold, which he fashioned for himself." He grinned, teeth a streak of white in the shadows of the cell, the sun too far gone to do more than lick the edges of the window.

Norrington gritted his teeth so hard they might have cracked, ignoring the ticklish trail of the sweat that ran from his temple to his jaw. "You'll be hanged for both tomorrow," he said coldly, "by my hand."

"Your hand," said Jack, the same damned grin on his face, as if enjoying light banter over dinner, "but the arm of Justice. I won't take it personal, Commodore. It's just your job."

 _It is personal_ , James wanted to shout. _You've humiliated me in front of my men. You placed Miss Swann in danger._ But the part of himself that would kill a man for his own reasons was not a part he'd like to acknowledge, so James said nothing.

Sparrow sidled up to the bars, the hot stink of his breath washing over Norrington's face, the long white bone in his mane gleaming in the coming moonlight. "I'll escape the arm of Justice," he said, almost a promise, "and your hand with it. Nothing personal. That's _my_ job."

Norrington felt the blood rise in his face and was grateful for the darkness to hide the swath of red across his cheekbones. "Good night, Mr Sparrow," he said, straightening his back. "I shall see you early on the morrow." He turned and stalked away, bootsteps ringing against the stone.

Behind him, a voice crawled up from the sweltry nap of night. "Commodore, if I really am hanged tomorrow, could you see to it that I am addressed by my proper title?" A slight pause, and then the pirate spoke again, lilting pride and something of sorrow in his voice: "I'm _Captain_ Jack Sparrow."

The commodore heard, but did not answer.


End file.
